


Trying Fate

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (minor and canonical), First Kiss, First Time, Force Visions, Frottage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Harm, Squabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Armitage Hux has never thought Kylo Ren had any interest in him, so it comes as a complete surprise when Ren asks to sleep together.





	Trying Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Kylux Cantina](http://kyluxcantina.tumblr.com/), week 18, [this prompt](http://kyluxcantina.tumblr.com/post/163071619109/oh-no-virgin-kylo-ren-thinks-sleeping-together). (It's a little late, lol.) See the end notes for more information about the tags.

First Order General Armitage Hux could not actually remember ever having an equal. His one-time mentor, Grand Admiral Rae Sloane, had been close, perhaps. But she was gone, and as he moved swiftly through the ranks he found no one else. The old former Imperials were shortsighted and arrogant, and while the new recruits were enthusiastic, they tended to be foolish. His fellow members of High Command were the best the First Order had to offer, but even they fell victim to petty squabbling and territorialism, putting their own egos above the Order’s objectives. Armitage had no peer, no counterpart, in the entire galaxy.

Or at least, that was what he’d thought. Then he met Kylo Ren.

Ren could see to the heart of a problem and propose five different solutions in an instant. He could evaluate a situation with a glance. His mystical abilities seemed to offer him insight, but Armitage knew that insight would be worthless without the mind to back it up. Ren had his own mission, his own priorities, and he spoke rarely in meetings. But when he did, it was always to point out something crucial that had been missed. Finally, there was someone on Armitage’s level.

And yet he had seemed entirely uninterested in Armitage, in working together. He kept to himself and turned down all offers of drinks or dinner or discussion. He was aloof, distant. Armitage had finally found his equal, but he was still alone.

Which was why Ren’s question that morning had been so baffling. Why Armitage was now pacing his quarters, stopping occasionally in front of the mirror to fret.

Perhaps Ren’s abilities had shown him the depth of Armitage’s esteem. Perhaps Ren knew how much Armitage admired him, both mind and body. Perhaps Ren, like Armitage, longed for companionship.

Armitage had no way of knowing. But he certainly couldn’t say no.

As he scrutinized his reflection for what had to be the twentieth time, the hatchway arrival chime sounded. Armitage frowned at the mirror. He didn’t know what one typically wore when one was meeting one’s co-commander for a sexual liaison, but he was sure his uniform was not it. He just didn’t know what else to put on. Straightening his belt, Armitage strode to the door and palmed the release.

Ren was in his usual attire, ratty cowl over helmet and tunic, which made Armitage glad he hadn’t tried to find something fancy or—stars forbid— _sexy_  to wear. He seemed desperate enough as it was.

Ren was also carrying a small bag on one shoulder, which he shifted into his hands as he strode through the hatch and into Armitage’s chambers. Once Armitage had sealed the door again, Ren said, “Where is your refresher unit?”

 _Hello to you too_ , Armitage thought, somewhat bitterly. Ren should know where the ’fresher was; his rooms were identical. Still, Armitage gestured toward the passageway to the personal area, beyond which his bedroom also lay. Ren turned without a word and stalked through it.

Alone in the small living and office space, Armitage curled his hands into fists. This was ridiculous. Why should he feel uncomfortable in his own chambers? What was Ren playing at? Was this all an elaborate joke? He drew a long, slow breath, then spun on his heel and marched down the passage after him.

Neither the sonic nor the closely rationed real-water shower were in use, but from the bedroom Armitage could hear Ren shuffling around in the ’fresher. He sighed and sat down at the corner of his bed, folding his hands in his lap and attempting calm.

After a few more minutes of rustling, Ren emerged transformed. He carried his helmet and boots under one arm and his bag over the opposite shoulder. Presumably he’d put his clothes in the bag, because it looked to be stuffed full, and he was now wearing a loose white tank top and short charcoal pants. Armitage found himself staring at Ren’s bare feet—this was the first time he’d ever seen them.

“Where should I leave my things?” Ren asked. Armitage tore his gaze away from Ren’s toes and looked at his face instead, which was probably a mistake, because while Armitage had seen Ren’s face before, it always surprised him. He had a sad, even sullen mien, but just beneath it was something else, something that felt like—of all things—kindness. It clashed violently with Ren’s demeanor when he was masked and confounded Armitage every time.

“General?” Ren said, and Armitage realized he’d been gaping wordlessly at his boyish face.

“Just—just put it there,” he said, waving vaguely in the direction of the standard issue storage case at the foot of the bed. Ren set his bag and helmet down atop the case, then lined up his boots beside it. When he straightened and turned toward the bed, Armitage remarked thoughtlessly, “You’re neater than I expected.”

Ren frowned, and Armitage immediately regretted the words.

“I—I just meant—you have such passion.” Armitage dropped his gaze to his lap. “I apologize.”

Ren didn’t say anything for a moment, and Armitage realized this was the first time he’d ever apologized to him. He fought down a scowl; exactly how desperate  _was_ he?

“Apology accepted,” Ren said finally. He stayed standing where he was, and Armitage stayed sitting where he was, and a long minute stretched out between them. Finally Ren cleared his throat. “I’ll return to the main room to give you some privacy, General.”

Armitage looked up at that. “Privacy?”

“To change,” Ren said, cocking his head to the side.

Armitage blinked. “Ah.”

Ren swept out of the room, his movements just as dramatic as they were when he was in his robes, back straight and shoulders square. Armitage watched him go, then began pulling off his boots.

Frankly, he’d been expecting a bit more…heat. This felt almost like a business transaction. An extremely awkward business transaction. Why should either of them need privacy to change, if they were going to see each other naked anyway? Why should either of them need to change at all? Armitage realized he’d been looking forward to watching Ren undress. To having Ren undress him.

Ren hadn’t even touched him once since his arrival.

Grumbling, Armitage hung his uniform in the closet and arranged his boots beneath it. Then he removed his undershirt and tossed it into the service chute. After a moment’s reflection, he yanked down his boxer shorts and threw them in too. Fuck Ren. Literally. If Ren wasn’t going to get on with it, Armitage would.

He’d just sprawled back across the bed, not bothering to turn down the blanket and sheet, when Ren reappeared in the doorway. “If you’re ready,” Ren started to say, but as soon as his eyes found Armitage, he froze, mouth open.

“Quite,” Armitage said, hoping desperately that he looked at least halfway alluring. He wasn’t hard—who would be, under these circumstances?—but he was posed in what should be an appealing way, one knee up and the other leg stretched out straight, propped up a bit on one elbow to put his chest on display.

“Do you,” Ren started, and then he licked his lips, coughed, and started again. “Do you sleep like that?”

“Sometimes,” Armitage said. “But usually only if a partner  _convinces_ me.”

Ren was still staring, which Armitage hoped was a good sign. He bit his lower lip for good measure, and Ren seemed to actually  _shudder_. Armitage was inwardly congratulating himself when Ren suddenly spoke up again:

“You don’t have to.”

Something in his chest withered and died. Armitage resisted the urge to curl his legs up toward his chest, to hide his flaccid cock, to retreat. Why was Ren doing this? Why was he being so difficult, when he was the one who’d initiated this? “Just come here,” Armitage said crossly, and patted the bed next to him.

Ren seemed to debate for a moment, then shuffled over until he was standing alongside the bed. Armitage rolled onto his back, folded his hands behind his head, and stared up at him, waiting. “Well?”

“This is…not quite what I expected, General,” Ren said.

Armitage barked out a laugh. “Oh, really? It’s not what I expected either.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, and that was the first time  _he’d_  ever apologized. That was surprising enough, but then he said something that was so utterly shocking that Armitage sat bolt upright. “This is the first time I’ve ever slept with someone.”

“No,” Armitage said in disbelief. “You’ve  _never_ —?”

Ren shook his head, then looked away. His lips trembled with what might have been anger and might have been embarrassment.

Armitage rose to his knees and moved to the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup Ren’s face in his hands and turn it back toward him. “You should have told me,” he said. “We could have avoided—” He stopped, shook his head. “Never mind. I know now. It’s quite all right, Ren. I can work with this. Have you at least…done research?”

Ren was practically pouting. “I didn’t realize this would require research.”

“Did you think you would just…automatically know what to do?” Armitage shook his head. It was too easy to fall back to antagonizing Ren. “Never mind,” he said again. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Ren was still pouting, so Armitage brushed a finger over his lips to get his attention. “Ren,” he said softly, “take your clothes off.”

There was something intensely gratifying about this situation. Armitage knew something Ren didn’t. He would be the one to teach him. Didn’t that, in a sense, make Ren his?

Ren looked searchingly into Armitage’s eyes, and it almost seemed like he was trembling. Then he was moving his big hands down to the hem of his tank and pulling it off over his head.

This, Armitage had seen before, in the training area. As the command triumvirate for Starkiller and the  _Finalizer_ , Ren, Phasma, and Armitage had certain private blocks of time to themselves there. Ren and Phasma would often go maskless and wear light workout clothing when it was just the three of them. The sight of Ren’s enormous chest and tight stomach glistening with sweat had burned itself into Armitage’s memory.

He’d seen it before, but he’d never touched it. Hardly daring to breathe, Armitage slid his hands away from Ren’s cheeks and down to his pectorals. Fitting the meat of them into his palms, he squeezed lightly. “Your body is incredible, Ren,” he said, so soft it was almost a sigh.

Ren’s face went red. It was utterly charming, and Armitage gave him a fond smile. “Now the rest.”

Armitage had to let go of Ren’s pecs when he stooped to slide his shorts and underwear down his legs, but it was worth it when the man straightened and Armitage got his first look at Ren’s cock.

“Oh,” Armitage breathed, “it’s beautiful.” It was. Ren wasn’t hard, but that could be dealt with easily enough. Armitage felt himself leaning in almost without meaning to, bending at the waist to get a closer look. He’d just take Ren’s cock into his mouth—

Abruptly, Ren’s hand was there, covering everything. “Um,” Ren said. “Is this…normal?”

“Your cock?” Armitage frowned. “Yes, it’s fine, I just told you it was beautiful. Move your blasted hand.”

“No, I mean… _this_ ,” Ren said, gesturing vaguely with his unoccupied hand. “Is this what sleeping together is like?”

Armitage sat back on his heels with a huff. “Not necessarily,” he said. “There are many different things we could do. But I thought we’d start with the basics.” His face felt pinched up; he must be practically glaring at Ren. Even when Ren was giving Armitage what he wanted, he was exasperating.

“This isn’t a trick,” Ren said, looking somewhat confused. “If it was, I’d know.”

“Of course it isn’t a trick!” Armitage snapped. “ _You’re_  the one who propositioned  _me_!”

Ren took a step back. “ _Propositioned_?”

Armitage stared at him. “You said, and I quote, ‘Do you want to sleep with me?’ What in blazes else could you possibly have meant—”

“I meant sleep together! In the same bed!”

Now it was Armitage’s turn to cup a hand over his own genitals. “You thought—you thought that ‘sleep together’ meant just… _sleeping_?”

“Doesn’t it?” Ren looked angry now.

Armitage scowled at him. “It does not.”

Ren glared back, hissing out “Fuuuuuuck” through clenched teeth.

“Quite right,” Armitage sneered, “ _that_ is what it means.” He could feel his cheeks and the tips of his ears warming, but he would not give in to embarrassment. “My answer has changed, Ren. I am not interested in sleeping in the same bed with you. Return to your own quarters.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed. He cocked his head to one side. “But you  _are_ interested,” he said. “I’ve seen it.”

Armitage could feel his lips twisting. “I was interested in a fuck, because you’re not bad to look at, and because—” He broke off and turned his head away, nose in the air. “Just a fuck. That’s all.”

“That’s… _not_ all,” Ren said, and now his usual confidence was back in full force. “You do want that. But that’s not all you want.”

“Just go,” Armitage said, refusing to look at him.

“But aren’t you curious?” Ren asked.

“For fuck’s sake, curious about what?”

“About why I asked you to sleep with me.”

Armitage turned his head slowly back toward Ren. It was a good question, and the fact that it hadn’t occurred to him was infuriating. “No,” he said.

“Liar,” Ren said.

Not trusting himself to say anything else, Armitage simply stared at Ren, willing him to leave.

“You don’t want me to leave,” Ren said.

Armitage flung his hands into the air. “Damn it, Ren!”

“You want the answer to the question.” Ren was frowning. He crossed his arms. “The answer is: I had a dream about it.”

Armitage blinked.

“Last night,” Ren continued. “I wasn’t sure if it was a vision or not. So I asked, to find out.”

“And your dream was about…sleeping in the same bed, wearing clothes.”

Ren suddenly looked shy. He glanced away, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was more of a…sensation? I…felt you. Next to me. I didn’t see you, because I was sleeping.”

Letting out a sigh, Armitage put his hands on his hips. “If that’s all, Ren, you can go now.”

“You were happy,” Ren said. “In the dream. I’ve never sensed happiness like that from you.”

“Are you going to leave, or not?” It felt like Armitage’s skin was electrified, sparks dancing over his arms and down his legs, and his heart was beating so hard it was almost worrying. This was anger, surely—perhaps the angriest he’d ever felt.

“You’re afraid,” Ren said, and Armitage hated him.

“You think you know me,” he spat, but Ren broke in:

“I do know you. And you know me. Perhaps better than anyone else.”

Armitage was flummoxed by that. His hands dropped from his hips. As his fingers grazed over his bare skin, he realized that he was still naked…and so was Ren, and neither of them was covering up anymore.

“Ren,” he said, turning his head away again, “put your clothes back on.”

“You don’t want me to leave,” Ren repeated.

“I didn’t say anything about you leaving, did I?” Armitage crossed his arms.

Ren paused, then stooped to retrieve his shorts and tank top from the floor. Once he was dressed again, Armitage turned back to him. “Now go wait outside.”

Incredibly, Ren actually left the room. When he was gone Armitage let out a long breath, unfolded his legs from beneath himself, and scooted off the bed. His undergarments were long gone down the service chute, so Armitage fished a new shirt and pair of boxers out of the drawer in his closet. He dressed quickly and returned to the bed, burrowing under the covers.

He could, conceivably, just go to sleep. Perhaps he should. Ren might finally get the hint and go.

Armitage weighed the idea for some time, fingers curling into fists in the blanket. Then, finally, he rolled his eyes, drew a breath, and called out “Ren?”

Ren reappeared in the doorway. Upon sighting Armitage clothed and under the covers, a look of apparent relief washed over his face. Armitage almost laughed. It was fitting that a man who could read other people’s thoughts broadcasted his own so plainly in his expressions.

“Come to bed,” Armitage said, shifting over to make room for Ren’s massive body.

Ren took a step forward, then stopped, hands flexing into fists and then unflexing again.

“Well, come on, then.” Armitage patted the mattress next to him. “Let’s find out if your dream was a vision or not. Personally, I don’t see how sleeping next to you is supposed to make me happy, but mysticism is hardly my milieu.”

Ren deactivated the lights, crossed the room, pulled back the blanket and sheet and slipped beneath them. He was invisible in the darkness, but the mattress shifted with his weight and Armitage could feel the heat of his body as they lay on their backs, side by side.

He’d calmed in the time Ren had been out of the room, but now his heartbeat sped up again. Ren was here, right here, so close Armitage would barely have to move to touch him. The blanket shifted minutely as Ren’s chest rose and fell, and Armitage could hear the soft sounds of his breathing.

“What—” Armitage began, then licked his lips and started over. “How were we arranged, in your dream?”

Ren let out a thoughtful-sounding huff through his nose. “You were on your side,” he said. “Your back to me. Even though you were happy, you were hiding.”

His instinct had been to do just that, roll onto his side to keep from touching Ren, giving Ren any more power over him than he already had. Apparently that would be a useless gesture.

Armitage turned onto his other side instead, facing Ren. He slid closer, wrapping an arm around Ren’s waist. “Not like this, then?”

Ren sucked in a slow breath. “No,” he said.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Armitage wondered if Ren could feel his heartbeat. He was almost surprised it wasn’t audible.

“No,” Ren said again, but Armitage suspected that was a lie. He trailed his fingers up Ren’s stomach and laid his hand over Ren’s chest.

“How about now?”

Armitage could feel Ren’s heartbeat now, thudding rapidly against his palm. Ren was quiet for a moment. “Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?” he said at last.

“I’m just curious,” Armitage said, and it was supposed to come out flat and disinterested but instead it came out in a croak. Ren was here, Ren’s body was flush to his, Ren was under his hand…

“Are  _you_  uncomfortable?” Ren asked then. “You don’t have to do this just to prove my vision wrong.” His voice was low, tight. “I know you think the Force has no practical use, even though you’ve seen ample evidence otherwise.”

“I don’t  _have_ to do  _anything_ ,” Armitage said.

“You’re doing this because you want to, then?”

There was no good answer to this. Armitage wasn’t even sure he knew what the answer was. He said nothing.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Ren asked suddenly, and there was no good answer to that, either.

Ren shifted, sliding his arm up and out from between them and then back under Armitage’s head, forcing Armitage to raise up slightly to let it pass. Ren’s arm ended up stretched across Armitage’s back, his hand over Armitage’s hip bone and his shoulder pillowing Armitage’s head.

“You like this,” Ren said.

Armitage attempted a scornful laugh. It was a dismal failure. “Do I?”

“Yes. It’s different from the dream. In the dream, you seemed…satisfied. Now, you seem energized.”

“Energized,” Armitage repeated. His heart was still pounding, and lightning danced across his skin. “Are you certain you’re interpreting things correctly?”

“Yes,” Ren said immediately, maddeningly.

“What exactly am I ‘energized’ about?” Why was Armitage asking this?

Ren’s arm twitched, pulling him closer. “You’d have to tell me.”

“I see,” Armitage said against Ren’s collarbone. “So there are limits to your magical powers.”

“Of course there are,” Ren said. “I could find out with a deep probe, but a surface read of your emotions isn’t going to tell me why you’re feeling them.” He paused. “And people don’t generally enjoy deep probes.”

Armitage snorted. “You care about my enjoyment?”

“Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?”

“It is?” Armitage blinked.

Ren turned his head away and made a gruff, noncommittal sound.

Surely not. Ren had come here because he wanted to know if his dream was a vision. While Ren’s dream had involved Armitage’s happiness, Armitage hadn’t thought about that being the motivating factor…but now that he considered it, what other reason could there be? Idle curiosity wouldn’t have driven Kylo Ren into Armitage Hux’s bed.

“There wasn’t anything else to your dream?” he asked, because perhaps there was some other part Ren was interested in, something he hoped was real or true. But:

“No,” Ren said.

“The entire dream was just…sleeping?”

“Yes. And knowing you were beside me, and happy.”

Armitage let out a thoughtful hum. “You’ve never slept in the same bed with someone else.”

“That’s what I said.”

“But you have fucked someone else.”

Ren took a moment to respond. “That’s none of your business, General.”

“So you haven’t.” Armitage began tracing patterns over Ren’s chest with his fingertips. “Is it forbidden to you?”

“N-no,” Ren said, just as Armitage’s fingers brushed over his nipple and found it hard.

“A lack of opportunity, then?”

Ren’s hand moved up from Armitage’s hip to close around his bicep. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Armitage asked.

“Stop that,” Ren repeated.

Armitage acquiesced, flattening his hand against Ren’s pectoral, the stiff nub of Ren’s nipple beneath his palm. “Better?”

“No, I meant…” Ren turned his head back toward Armitage, and now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, Armitage could just make out the line of his nose and jaw. “Stop asking questions. We’re supposed to be sleeping, aren’t we?”

“But I’m enjoying asking questions, Ren,” Armitage drawled. “And ‘isn’t that what this whole thing is about?’”

Ren let out a long huff of breath that sounded irritated. “You are incomprehensible,” he said through his teeth. “You seem so simple, such basic motivations, such typical strategies—”

Blood rushed to Armitage’s face. “I beg your pardon!” he snapped, jerking out of Ren’s hold to sit upright.

“—but I have no idea what you’re thinking,” Ren continued as if Armitage hadn’t said a word, “even when I know what you’re feeling. It’s infuriating.”

“This experiment of yours is a failure,” Armitage proclaimed, kicking the covers away and floundering out of the bed. “I want you to leave.”

A shifting rustle told Armitage Ren was slowly sitting up. “You…do want me to leave, this time,” Ren said.

“Out!” Armitage pointed to the door, not that it was likely Ren could see him.

“I’ve insulted you,” Ren said.

“Hardly a rare occurrence,” Armitage countered. “Now  _get. Out._ ” Armitage stalked to the door and slapped the environmental controls, flooding the room with light.

Ren was still sitting on the bed, but he began shuffling to the edge as he blinked against the sudden brightness. Armitage stood silently, arms crossed, and watched as Ren finally stood and retrieved his bag and his boots.

“General,” Ren said, meeting Armitage’s eyes. “This was not my desired outcome.”

“How terrible for you.”

Ren’s grip tightened on his boots and the strap of his bag. “I wanted to make you happy.”

“Because you never have before. Because you wanted to see if you could. I am a curiosity to you.” Ren didn’t respect Armitage the way Armitage respected Ren. He never had. He probably never would.

“There’s more to your emotions than offense,” Ren said.

Armitage threw up his hands. “Stop analyzing my mental state and  _leave_.”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on,” Ren said stubbornly. “I want to know what happened here tonight.”

“If you can’t figure it out,” Armitage spat, hardly realizing what he was saying until it was already out of his mouth, “then perhaps  _you’re_  the ‘simple’ one.”

Ren stared at him. “General,” he said.

Armitage felt his face flushing. “What.”

“You’re in love with me.”

Fuck.

Armitage hugged his elbows and looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ren took a heavy step toward Armitage. “Stop  _lying_ ,” he said, his voice a low snarl.

“Fine,” Armitage huffed, thrusting his arms down stiff at his sides. “Yes, somehow, foolishly, I seem to have developed some sort of  _affection_ for you, though you’re hardly deserving—”

Ren’s boots and bag thudded to the floor as Ren strode forward, backing Armitage up against the wall. “You were trying to seduce me.”

“I told you to leave,” Armitage said, and there was a traitorous quaver in his voice.

“What do you  _really_ want, General?” Ren demanded. He was close enough that Armitage could feel the warmth of his breath.

Armitage trembled, fists clenched, and forced himself to ignore Ren’s mouth. “I want you to respect me!” he barked into Ren’s face. “I thought we at least had a professional rapport, but now I see even  _that_ was one-sided. I want you to respect my wishes and  _leave_.”

Ren loomed for a long moment, eyes intent, face oddly blank, his imposing bulk trapping Armitage against the wall. Then he abruptly stepped back, turned, picked up his things, and strode down the corridor out of Armitage’s bedroom without a word.

Armitage stood frozen against the wall, listening to the faint rustling sounds as Ren presumably pulled his bulky robes back on. He didn’t move until he finally heard the main hatch cycle open and closed. Then he toggled the lights off, groped his way back to bed in the dark, and pulled the sheet and blanket up to his chin.

The bed had cooled in the time he and Ren had been out of it. It also felt empty, which was ridiculous because it was not particularly large. Armitage lay on his back and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He tried to close his eyes, but they kept opening again.

After a time he shifted onto his side, curling up tightly and hugging the blanket to his chest. Pressing his eyes into the pillow helped him keep them closed, but his mind was racing. He thought of how this awful day had begun, how hopeful and excited he’d been at Ren’s proposition. Then his mind flitted to the moment he’d realized it had not actually  _been_ a proposition. Then he was back to how Ren had taken his orders, there in the beginning, before they’d worked out the miscommunication. Then he thought of Ren’s nipple pebbling under his touch, and Ren’s thick yet flat and muscular stomach, and Ren’s wide red mouth, and the sizable cock that hung between Ren’s legs.

Ren didn’t care for Armitage. Rather, Ren didn’t care about Armitage at all. He saw Armitage as either an annoyance or an oddity. Not an equal. Not a partner. Not…anything.

Ren was intelligent, and witty, and powerful, but he was also selfish, boorish, overemotional. Armitage was better off without him. It would have been disastrous to enter into any sort of… _relationship_ with Kylo Ren.

 _What do you_ really  _want, General?_

Armitage squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers twitched against the blanket. He tried to focus on his breathing. Then:

“Fuck it,” he seethed, throwing off the covers and stumbling back out of bed. “Fuck it all. Fuck everything.” Activating the lights, he crossed to his closet and retrieved a pair of workout pants and a running jacket. “Fuck everything,” he said again. “Fuck Ren.” He stepped into his workout shoes and stormed out of his quarters.

He and Ren were housed on opposite ends of the ship. This arrangement increased the probability of at least one of them surviving an attack while they slept, but it could also be terribly inconvenient at times.

Now, for example.

Armitage had burned off much of his righteous indignation by the time he made it to Ren’s door. Upon sighting it, he almost turned around. Then he stopped, drew a long breath, and pressed the call button.

The hatch cycled open almost instantly. Ren stood there as if he’d been waiting. He was once again in his sleep clothes. As soon as Armitage had stepped in far enough to clear the hatch, he closed it again.

Armitage propped his hands on his hips and spoke before he could lose his nerve. “You asked me what I really want,” he said, snapping his gaze to Ren’s and lifting his chin. “What I really want is a relationship. With you. A romantic and sexual relationship.”

There. He’d done it. The most idiotic thing he’d ever done in his life.

“I…see,” Ren said. He didn’t laugh. He also didn’t smile.

Armitage steeled himself. “I’m well aware you’ve never thought of me this way—”

“I’ve never thought of anyone that way,” Ren interrupted. “I always had more important things to think about.”

There he went again. “Ren,” Armitage gritted out, “do you actually intend to insult me every time we speak or are you simply oblivious to the implications of your words?”

“…Sorry,” Ren said. The second time he’d ever apologized, and it happened the same night as the first. “I…antagonize you on purpose. Except it’s not really planned. It happens naturally.” He frowned suddenly and turned away.

“What?” Armitage asked, half curious and half irritated.

“Nothing,” Ren said, and that tipped the scale in favor of irritated. “It’s not important. I just realized something, is all.” Before Armitage could complain about Ren’s lack of forthrightness, Ren met his eyes and spoke again. “What would this relationship you want involve?”

Armitage blinked, briefly flummoxed. Why was Ren—was he actually thinking about  _doing it_? And what did a functional relationship look like, anyway? It wasn’t like Armitage had much experience in  _that_ area.

“We would be partners,” he ventured, “but we would still be ourselves, free to come and go as we please. We would maintain our own commands and our own interests. We would simply support one another. Far more than we do now. Er, emotionally. We would…care, when the other had a problem. And try to help.” He felt his face going hot. “And we would fuck each other. Exclusively.”

Armitage imagined he saw a light flush rising to Ren’s cheeks. Surely not. Then Ren spoke again. “I don’t know if I can be what you want,” he said. This was an oddly insecure statement from a man as self-confident and proud as Kylo Ren. Then Ren said something even more surprising: “But I’m willing to try.”

“Oh,” Armitage said, because despite coming down here with the express purpose of telling Ren what he wanted, he hadn’t expected to actually get it. He wasn’t sure  _what_ he’d thought would happen.

It was rather unlike him not to have a bloody strategy.

Ren stepped close, and his big hands came up to rest on Armitage’s shoulders. “Ah,” Armitage said, and licked his lips. Then Ren leaned in, bringing their mouths together.

For a long moment the two of them were perfectly still. Ren didn’t move, just left his lips pressed against Armitage’s, and Armitage was too surprised to react. Finally Armitage drew back, and Ren frowned and looked at the floor.

“Was that…your first kiss, Ren?”

Ren looked up, his frown deepening. His deep brown eyes were so intent he was practically glaring, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded once and turned his gaze downward again.

It was the same situation as earlier, Armitage knowing something Ren did not—only this time, there was no miscommunication. Armitage raised his hands to either side of Ren’s face. “Let me show you something,” he said. “Open your mouth, only slightly. Don’t worry about doing anything else.”

Ren looked up at him through the curtain of his eyelashes; this made him look intensely vulnerable for a giant, musclebound brute. Armitage’s heart skipped a beat.

“Go on,” he urged gently, and Ren finally complied, dropping his mouth open. “And close your eyes,” Armitage said. “There, that’s good.”

Ren looked oddly innocent like this, eyes closed, lips parted. Armitage watched him draw a shaky breath. “It’s all right,” Armitage said, brushing his thumb over Ren’s bottom lip. Ren actually trembled. “I’m going to start my demonstration now.”

Wetting his lips, Armitage leaned toward Ren’s mouth. At the last moment he changed his mind, ducking his head to instead taste the soft skin of Ren’s neck just below his jaw. Ren let out a shuddery gasp, but kept his mouth open as instructed. Armitage held Ren’s face firmly and mouthed up his jaw, alternately kissing, sucking, and flicking his tongue over Ren’s skin, until finally he reached the point of Ren’s chin. Ren’s breath was coming harder now; Armitage sealed his lips over Ren’s and breathed in deep, stealing Ren’s air to leave him completely breathless. He drew back quickly, enough for Ren to gasp for air but still close enough that the heat of their mouths mingled between them. Then he licked his lips again and sucked Ren’s lower lip into his mouth, running his tongue along it and worrying it with his teeth.

Ren was outright shaking now, his hands clutching at Armitage’s shoulders. Armitage let out a pleased hum as he released Ren’s lower lip and ran his tongue just along the inside of Ren’s lips, tasting him. He nibbled and sucked at Ren’s upper lip, then opened and closed his lips slowly over Ren’s full mouth, then finally probed deeper with his tongue, just enough to flutter it across Ren’s own. A gratifyingly loud moan forced its way from Ren’s throat.

Armitage gave Ren’s mouth one last, long lick, then withdrew completely. Ren let out another moan; this one sounded distinctly disappointed. “Do you want more, Ren?” Armitage murmured. Ren nodded vigorously, eyes still closed. “Well then. Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned?”

At that, Ren dove forward eagerly, blindly, and Armitage tilted his head just in time to avoid Ren’s nose crashing into his own. But Ren was a fast learner. He worked his lips and tongue over Armitage’s mouth with something close to finesse, and Armitage sighed, pleased, and returned the favor.

It wasn’t long before Armitage was thinking less about teaching Ren how to kiss and more about simply kissing him, being kissed by him. The man had an incredible mouth; his wide, plush lips were positively sumptuous, full and soft. The kiss had deepened and was growing almost frantic when Ren suddenly lurched forward, hands scrabbling at Armitage’s chest. Armitage stumbled back, and they broke apart, gasping for breath.

“Sorry,” Ren panted. “Lost my balance.”

Armitage couldn’t help but grin at him. “I’m certainly not offended,” he said. “But perhaps we should sit?”

Ren’s quarters were even sparser than Armitage’s, with only a single chair in the main living area. Ren considered the chair as if imagining how the two of them might fit into it together.

“Perhaps the bed,” Armitage suggested dryly. But at that Ren suddenly looked awkward, his shoulders hunching and his hands balling into fists. “Oh, what  _now_?”

“Nothing,” Ren huffed, and he spun on his heel. “This way.”

“If you truly mean to make an attempt at a relationship,” Armitage threw at Ren’s back as he followed him to the bedroom, “you’ll need to be more forthright. I can’t read your mind, you know.”

Ren stopped in front of the bed. He didn’t turn around. “You’re not superior to me,” he said.

Armitage blinked. “Well. Of course not.”

Ren turned at that, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean,  _of course not_?”

“We’re equals,” Armitage said. “Supreme Leader Snoke holds us in equal esteem. We bring equal value to the First Order, simply in different ways.”

Now Ren was looking at him as though he’d sprouted gundark ears. “I’m Leader Snoke’s apprentice,” he said, and Armitage felt his face heating again. “You’re—”

Before he could even think about it, Armitage had stepped chest to chest with Ren, snarling, “I’m  _what_ , Ren?”

Ren scowled in lieu of answering. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he said.

Rage twisted Armitage’s mouth. “Giving up so soon?” he spat. “I didn’t think you were the type to run away, Ren.”

“And I didn’t think  _you_ were the type to lower yourself to childish taunts,” Ren sneered.

Armitage offered him a smirk in return. “Oh, did you think you had exclusive authorization for those?”

They were already close but Ren loomed closer, so close their noses touched. “Careful, General,” he said, voice low.

Armitage kissed him.

He grabbed Ren’s face and savaged his lips, biting and sucking and stabbing his tongue into Ren’s mouth, and Ren staggered backward until his legs hit the bed and he dropped to sit on it, and Armitage climbed into his lap, straddling him, and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

He felt a tentative press at his waist as Ren’s hands came up from where they’d been hanging at his sides. He offered Ren an encouraging hum and shifted in his lap, letting his cock drag against Ren’s through the thin fabric of their trousers. Neither of them was hard, but Ren’s soft gasp indicated that wouldn’t be the case for long. Ren’s grip tightened on his hips, and Armitage rocked against him again, and then Ren was tugging at Armitage’s running jacket and the thin shirt beneath it, shoving them upward to reach skin.

Armitage let go of Ren’s face but did not break the kiss, reaching blindly down to undo the fastenings and hurl the jacket to the floor. Ren’s hands smoothed their way up his sides and around his back, pulling him in close and bunching the undershirt up under his arms; one of Ren’s hands slid up to the back of his neck and Armitage felt himself shudder with pleasure. “Fuck,” he gasped into Ren’s mouth.

“Good?” Ren panted, and though he couldn’t really see it from this close Armitage could  _feel_ the self-satisfied look on Ren’s face—but he didn’t care, it  _was_  good, let Ren congratulate himself. He’d be quivering under Armitage’s hands soon enough.

Ren squeezed the back of Armitage’s neck, and Armitage’s cock throbbed, and he let out a groan and gripped Ren’s shoulders, grinding down hard against Ren’s fattening dick. Ren groaned too, and his head fell back, and Armitage took the opportunity to taste his throat.

The shirt was starting to get obnoxious. “Let me—” Armitage murmured, pulling away from Ren’s body just far enough to tug it over his head. Ren’s hands were everywhere then, exploring his stomach, his chest, his back, his shoulders. “Your turn,” Armitage demanded in a far breathier voice than he would have preferred. He yanked at Ren’s tank top, and Ren reached over his own shoulder with one hand and dragged it off, and there was that glorious chest again. Armitage couldn’t decide if he wanted to be pressed into it or if he wanted to grope those pecs; he compromised by pushing his body against one of them and grabbing the other.

Ren shuddered as Armitage gave the tight muscle a squeeze, and Armitage couldn’t help throwing Ren’s earlier question back in his face. “Good?” he teased. Ren let out a low growl that made heat curl in Armitage’s gut. Giddy, he ground down harder. It was perfect. Ren was so big, so hard. Armitage could come so easily like this.

So, it occurred to him, could Ren.

Armitage suddenly wanted that more than he could remember ever wanting anything in his life. Wanted Ren to come, gasping, from nothing more than Armitage rutting against him.

He wrapped his arms around Ren’s neck for balance and began bucking back and forth, humping Ren’s lap, coming up hard against his cock over and over. “Ah,” he said, “yes—”

“Hux?” Ren said, and his choked voice sounded like a question and a warning all at once.

Armitage ground his hips down in an all-out assault on Ren’s cock. “Are you going to come?” he huffed into Ren’s ear—

And Ren let out a shout and seized Armitage by the waist, his enormous hands shaking even as they gripped hard enough to bruise.

Vaguely, Armitage was aware of the lights flickering, of a rather impressive crashing sound somewhere off to the right—but Ren’s hands had claimed him and he was coming too. The entire galaxy narrowed down to nothing but the heat between his legs, the shuddering of his body, the sparks along his skin, the searing vise of Ren’s hands. He shook and gasped for breath. As the last of his spend pulsed into the thin fabric between their cocks, he imagined he could feel it blending with Ren’s there. Ren fell backward onto the bed, and Armitage slumped against Ren’s heaving chest, panting, dazed, sticky with sweat and come.

Some unknowable amount of time passed before it finally occurred to Armitage to investigate the noise he’d heard. He considered raising off Ren to look, then abandoned that foolish thought and simply turned his head instead.

Ren had a freestanding console next to his bed, standard issue, equipped with a charging station and storage drawers. It had looked like any other when Armitage first entered the room; he hadn’t even noticed it. Now, though, it appeared to have been plucked effortlessly up off the floor and then flung violently back down; the metal was warped and the drawers had fallen out, their contents spilled everywhere. “Ren,” Armitage said, staring at it, “did you do that?”

Ren craned his neck to see what Armitage meant. Then his hands twitched against Armitage’s waist and he let out a noise of dismay that was so soft Armitage was startled into looking back at him. Ren was utterly crestfallen, his expressive eyes looking almost watery.

Armitage felt a grin spreading across his own face. “Did I make you do that?”

Ren’s gaze snapped to his, and that vulnerable expression evaporated with a scowl. “That hasn’t happened since—” His next words were spoken through clenched teeth. “That shouldn’t happen.”

“You must have got off pretty hard,” Armitage said, still smirking.

Ren glared at him. “It’s nothing to smile about.”

“Of course it is,” Armitage said. He couldn’t stop smiling if he wanted to. “Who knew I’d have  _that_ much of an effect on you?”

Ren let out a frustrated growl. “Off,” he said, sitting up and shoving Armitage out of his lap.

“It’s nothing to be  _embarrassed_ about, for fuck’s sake,” Armitage said, stumbling a bit but managing to stay on his feet. “Look. You had the same effect on me.” He gestured to the large wet spot at the front of his workout trousers. “It was just a bit more localized, in my case.”

Ren was still scowling, but now it looked more like a pout. Armitage leaned in to kiss him, but Ren turned his head and crossed his arms.

“Well,” Armitage huffed, “don’t stick your lip out at me if you’re not offering.” Ren didn’t answer. After a moment Armitage mirrored his crossed-arm pose. “Shall we call it a night, then?”

Ren finally looked at him. “Is this what this is going to be like?” he asked, voice low.

“It wasn’t the best beginning, I’ll admit,” Armitage said. “But I expect we’ll get better at this as we proceed.”

“Maybe,” Ren said, again looking as though he was remembering something. “Maybe not.”

All at once, Armitage felt how tired he was. He ran a hand back through his sweat-clumped hair, then picked up his undershirt and pulled it back on. “Good night, Ren,” he said, stooping to retrieve his jacket. Ren said nothing; Armitage turned and strode out of the bedroom, and Ren didn’t follow. Holding back a sigh, Armitage slapped the controls to open the main hatch and stalked back to his own chambers.

He cleaned up quickly, putting on yet another pair of underwear, lips twisting at the waste of cleaning resources. His bed was just as cold as it had been after he sent Ren away, what now seemed like a lifetime ago. He burrowed under the covers and pulled them up to his neck, closing his eyes against the dark emptiness of his room.

He was tired. He should be able to fall right to sleep—and that would be ideal, as he had an early shift. But as before, his mind was racing. As before, he pressed his face into the pillow, and as before, it didn’t help.

He didn’t know why Ren had said what he’d said. That he was  _willing to try_. What did that mean?

Armitage didn’t want to be an experiment or a curiosity. And he didn’t want Ren’s pity, if Ren was even capable of such an emotion.

Ren didn’t want him. That was clear now. He should end this foolishness.

Armitage scrabbled blindly across the bedside console for his datapad. Just as his fingertips brushed the edge, an alert chime sounded. Someone was at his door.

This time Armitage let himself sigh, loud and long. It seemed Ren would end it for him. He threw back the blanket and sheet and marched, head held high, to his fate.

“Hux,” Ren said as the hatch cycled open. Armitage’s eyes widened. Ren wasn’t wearing his robes. He was wearing sleep clothes. And he was unmasked.

A bag hung from his shoulder.

“Would you,” Ren began, then stopped and started again. “Could I sleep in your bed with you? Please.”

Armitage blinked, then stepped back and hastily waved Ren inside. “Get in here, you fool,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Were you seen like this?”

“No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen,” Ren said with his usual maddening confidence. But when Armitage turned back to him from securing the hatch, Ren looked uncertain. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, eyes moving to Armitage’s and then skittering away.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then Ren spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

The third apology in a single night. Armitage frowned at him.

“I want to try harder,” Ren said, head lowered, eyes flicking up at Armitage through his lashes.

Resignation washed over Armitage, warm and bitter and inexplicably soothing, like tarine tea. “Ren,” he said quietly, “do you even want this?”

“I never thought about it before,” Ren said. “Ever. I told you.”

“Then—”

“But,” Ren interrupted, grip tightening on the shoulder strap of his bag, “I don’t…want you to be alone.”

Armitage didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Silence stretched between them, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on Ren’s face.

“Stop that,” Ren said suddenly. His massive hands wrapped around Armitage’s fists.

Armitage had apparently been scratching at his palms again. He hadn’t even noticed. Given how raw they felt, he’d probably been doing it since he left Ren’s chambers. “Bad habit,” he said, as dismissively as he could manage.

Ren shoved his fingers into Armitage’s palms, blocking his nails from reaching the abused flesh. “Stop it.”

“Fine,” Armitage said. He forced his fingers straight.

Ren, instead of simply letting go, slid his hands around Armitage’s so their palms were touching, then laced their fingers together. It was strange and almost too intimate. Armitage couldn’t help but drop his gaze to their joined hands, to Ren’s long, thick fingers forcing his own apart, weaving into them.

He looked back up at Ren. “You wanted to sleep in my bed,” he said.

“With you,” Ren said.

The corners of Armitage’s lips twitched upward. “With me,” he agreed, nodding toward the short hallway to his bedroom. “Shall we?”

 

~*~

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Self-Harm tag refers to Armitage's canonical scraping of his nails across his palms, which he does in this fic. It is brief and toward the end.


End file.
